Chapter 48

Later that evening, the group decided to head out for some karaoke together.

The hotel came equipped with its own private KTV rooms. After a full day of letting loose, they really ought to have turned in early. But trips like this didn’t come often, so they were determined to make the most of it.

Assistant Wang tallied up the headcount in the group chat when someone suddenly piped up: 【Will Director Shi be joining us?】

The question hit like a stone in still water, sending ripples through the chat. A bunch of employees jumped in right away, and several veteran staffers chimed in that Director Shi had an amazing voice—they’d been lucky enough to hear it once before and were dying for an encore.

Someone asked skeptically: 【For real?】

The veterans replied: 【Of course it’s real.】

That sparked more excitement: 【Then I wanna hear it! I gotta hear this!】

The idea got tons of support. Though Shi Qianyu held the title of director, she never put on airs. She was gentle and approachable, with elegant manners, and she got along great with everyone. The crowd was thrilled at the prospect of her joining and started bombarding the chat with cheers and emojis.

Finally, Assistant Wang gave in with a helpless sigh: 【Fine, I’ll go ask her.】

It didn’t take long for a reply: 【She says she’ll try to swing by later.】

The group erupted in cheers: 【Awesome!】

Wen Xin scrolled through the messages again to confirm, a smile tugging at her lips. She felt happy too.

It had been a while since she and Shi Qianyu had become lovers, and Wen Xin thought she’d seen many sides of her. But she knew she might only be scratching the surface—like how she’d had no idea Shi Qianyu was such a good singer, let alone heard her perform.

The old-timers’ praise only fueled her curiosity, enough to change her plans. She’d intended to just rest in her room, but now she wanted to join the fun.

She messaged Assistant Wang with her name and, after freshening up a bit, arrived at the karaoke room a few hours later.

Shi Qianyu hadn’t shown up yet—probably still tied up with work.

A good crowd had already gathered, and the vibe was electric. Assistant Wang had given everyone a heads-up that Director Shi might drop in at any time, but they shouldn’t wait—just get the party started.

So someone cracked open a bottle of red wine, others queued up songs. The singing wasn’t pro-level, but that wasn’t the point; it was all about the atmosphere.

During the fun, Gao Qiu belted out a tune, only to get ribbed that her voice could shatter the heavens. Puffing up indignantly, she chucked the mic and rolled up her sleeves, challenging the joker to a drinking contest.

Tao Qing tried to intervene but failed, so he just let her go. Turning to Wen Xin beside him, he griped with a sigh, “Man, she’s something else.”

“She hasn’t caused you all any trouble, has she?” Tao Qing kept chatting with Wen Xin, his eyes twinkling with amusement and fondness. “She’s a bit of a goof—doesn’t always think before she speaks—but she’s got a good heart and is genuinely kind. If she’s ever accidentally offended anyone, I hope you’ll cut her some slack. Let me apologize on her behalf first.”

“No way,” Wen Xin said, shaking her head emphatically and with sincerity. “A Qiu’s a great person. She’s helped me out a ton around the office.”

“Plus, she’s so warm and genuine—everyone can see that. We all like her.”

“Really?” Tao Qing perked up.

Wen Xin nodded. “Really.”

“That’s a relief. Thanks for saying so.” Tao Qing let out a breath, relaxing. Gao Qiu’s showdown was still going strong, leaving him at loose ends, so he started regaling Wen Xin with funny stories about the two of them.

Wen Xin listened intently. Tao Qing’s vivid retelling painted such clear pictures that she could practically see it all, and she found herself smiling genuinely, amused.

That was precisely when Shi Qianyu walked into the room.

She spotted Wen Xin right away and noticed her chatting happily with Tao Qing. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze lingered on Wen Xin for a long moment.

After a beat, Wen Xin ducked her head and used pouring a drink as an excuse to end the conversation with Tao Qing.

Shi Qianyu’s look reminded her of their talk not long ago—how Shi Qianyu had whined and pouted that she was jealous.

Wen Xin couldn’t tell how serious she’d been, but she didn’t want to risk upsetting her again, so she reined herself in.

After another moment, Shi Qianyu’s lips curved up. She stepped fully into the room.

“Good evening, Director Shi! Come sit right here!” Everyone noticed her entrance and cleared the prime spot in the center. But Shi Qianyu just shook her head and headed straight for Wen Xin’s side.

“There’s space here. I’ll just grab a seat anywhere.” She slid in next to Wen Xin with total ease. Right now, Shi Qianyu was the center of attention, and Wen Xin didn’t dare say much, limiting herself to a quick exchange.

“Good evening, Director Shi.” Wen Xin looked perfectly well-behaved, her cheeks faintly flushed from the wine, sitting quietly amid the raucous energy around her. If you didn’t look closely, you’d easily miss her.

But Shi Qianyu noticed. These past few days had offered scant time alone with Wen Xin, so she’d bet on her showing up tonight and accepted the group’s invite. Her hunch had paid off.

The others were here to unwind and party, but Shi Qianyu had come only for Wen Xin—so of course she’d know exactly where she was.

Someone poured Shi Qianyu a drink; others egged her on to sing. She picked a Cantonese song at random, and her pronunciation and vocals were flawless.

One fan-girl type recorded it and posted it to the group chat, joking that Director Shi’s skills were pro-level—she was ditching her idols to become her number-one fan!

“Sing another one!” Plenty weren’t satisfied after just one.

But Shi Qianyu passed the mic along. “That’s me done for tonight.”

“Have fun, guys—don’t mind me.” She smiled, poured herself a glass, and leaned back into the sofa. The blaring music drowned out softer voices, so no one else caught her words.

She sipped her drink while scrolling her phone, seemingly back to work. Only Wen Xin could hear her murmur, “What were you and Tao Qing chatting about earlier? You looked so happy.”

Just as Wen Xin had suspected, she was definitely paying attention.

“Just some casual talk. He was telling me funny stories about him and A Qiu.” Wen Xin answered honestly.

But Shi Qianyu still found fault, teasing in an exaggerated tone: “A Qiu, huh? Sounds awfully intimate. You hardly ever call me that in public.”

How were those even comparable?

Wen Xin paused, then glanced sideways at her, starting to explain—only to catch the laughter in Shi Qianyu’s eyes and realize she was just messing with her.

It left Wen Xin exasperated yet amused, so she clammed up and nursed her drink in silence.

After a moment, Shi Qianyu owned up: “Sorry, I shouldn’t tease you like that.”

She cautioned the woman beside her: “Go easy on the drinks, or your stomach might not like it later.”

“It’s fine.” Wen Xin shook her head. “I’ve only had half a glass, and it’s not that strong anyway.”

“Why not sing something?” Shi Qianyu asked next.

Wen Xin flushed a little. “I’m terrible at singing.”

“No, you’re not.” Shi Qianyu smiled in denial. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard Wen Xin sing—back when they were kids, Wen Xin had crooned her lullabies like “Little Swallow,” “Happy New Year,” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Shi Qianyu still regretted not recording them. “You sound great.”

Wen Xin figured she was just being nice. She’d never sung in front of outsiders anyway, so Shi Qianyu could say what she wanted: “Okay.”

But Shi Qianyu pushed her luck: “Sing me one sometime. Any song you like.”

Wen Xin blinked. “Why?”

“Fair’s fair—I just sang for you,” Shi Qianyu said.

She was great at twisting logic. Wen Xin couldn’t help retorting: “By that logic, everyone here owes you a song.”

Shi Qianyu replied earnestly: “But I only want to hear Sister sing.”

“…”

Fine, she had Wen Xin there. She finally agreed.

Shi Qianyu smiled, tossed back her drink, and let it drop. The red wine glistened on her lips under the disco lights, making them look all the more plump and inviting.

Wen Xin sneaked a glance but quickly looked away.

~~~

A few hours later, everyone was partied out from singing but reluctant to call it a night. They gathered to play cards instead.

Not regular poker, but a special deck with all sorts of dares written on them. An empty wine bottle served as the spinner—whoever it pointed to had to draw a card. The bold ones did the dare; the chicken ones drank. Far from cooling off, the energy ramped up even higher.

Shi Qianyu joined in, and plenty of shots went around. Image be damned, everyone loosened up, even wagering when Director Shi’s turn would come.

Shi Qianyu grinned. “Maybe it won’t be me at all.”

Famous last words. The bottle slowed to a stop, pointing straight at her.

The room exploded: “Draw a card! Draw a card!”

Shi Qianyu didn’t dodge the obligation. True to her word on the bet, she generously drew a card and showed its face to the crowd for everyone to inspect—

【Share a crossed-arms drink with the player beside you.】

“Whoa!” A few loud exclamations erupted from the crowd, drawing laughter that everyone couldn’t hold back.

The male employee to Shi Qianyu’s left tensed up because of it. He had admired Director Shi for a long time but seldom had the chance for such intimate interaction with her. He immediately straightened his posture.

Yet he was overlooked all the same. After all, as the director, Shi Qianyu was destined to stand apart from them. Even though she was gentle and approachable, able to blend seamlessly with the group, there remained a fundamental divide at her core.

Fearing she might feel too awkward to refuse, the crowd proactively offered her an out. “Director Shi, time for you to down three cups as penalty!”

Shi Qianyu shook her head, her lips curving into a smile. “Who said I’m taking the penalty drink?”

The crowd gasped in surprise. “Then you…”

Shi Qianyu said nothing more. She lowered her gaze, filled her wine glass to the brim, then turned sideways and held it out before Wen Xin. “Please, Wen Xin—do me a favor?”

A bolder onlooker raised an objection. “But Wen Xin’s a girl…”

Shi Qianyu nodded lightly. “Exactly. And the rules don’t say anything about same-sex not counting.”

It was hard to argue with that logic.

A few people huddled together to reread the card, nodding in admiration. Director Shi’s choice was perfect: it fulfilled the task while keeping the drinking to a minimum.

It was just a game, after all—no one would take it too seriously. Nobody cared whether the person sharing a crossed-arms drink with Shi Qianyu was a man or a woman. It was all in good fun, for the lively atmosphere, with no deeper implications.

Except, perhaps, for the two who were about to share it, each harboring their own private thoughts.

In front of such a large crowd, Wen Xin couldn’t possibly let Shi Qianyu lose face. Besides, she didn’t mind making such an intimate gesture with the woman before her. It was a game rule, after all—perfectly reasonable, even in public.

She felt only a flush of shyness, struggling to tamp down the tension fluttering in her chest as she lowered her gaze just a touch.

But Shi Qianyu seemed to misread her hesitation and confirmed once more. “Wen Xin, are you willing?”

After a long moment, Wen Xin lifted her eyes to meet hers, and at last whispered her reply—

“…I’m willing.”